Wet Sand
by CowgirlUpx
Summary: Beck finds out something he never would have wanted to know about his best friend and his ex. Angst, love, denial. . . All in three short little sections set directly after "Three Girls and a Moose." From the point of view of Beck Oliver. Beck/Jade - Bade. Rated M for coarse language and sexual themes.
1. Destined to Waver

**Disclaimer;**  
I don't own Victorious, I don't reckon. I also don't usually write fanfictions that aren't about femslash.

**Warnings;**  
This is amateur work, seeing as there are several new things for me writing. Read at the risk of your faith in humanity. (That was only half of a joke, really, LOL.)

**Author's Note;**

Hey, it's just little ol' me again.

I saw that "Three Girls and a Moose" episode a couple weeks ago, and if you know me, you know inspiration comes at odd times. I know I'm primarily a Jori and Cade shipper, but I have so many different ideas and feelings about certain friendships and relationships (and really just characters in general) for this show. . . Bade has always been one of my ships, although lesser when compared to my girl-on-girl pairings.

I figured, "What the hell?" and decided I'd not only write something _not_ femslash, but something in first person. It was done in under three hours, and half of it was done while I was sitting in psychology class. But hey, you do what you can; it's nice to be writing again at least.

There will be two parts after this, and then I'm pretty sure it'll be done for good. I already know what's going to happen. Also, although it's set in my own perceptive world of Victorious, (where Jade has also been with Tori and Cat,) there are no spoilers for my continuing Jori fanfiction, and it's actually just an offshoot of my own little story-universe. So just think of this as something in itself, rather than another side to my other stories.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Tell me if you've figured out any recurring themes in titles and whatnot, by the way.

**Wet Sand**

_Part one - Destined to Waver._

It's warm out here. He keeps making that remark, and I know it's true, but I've been here for years. Somehow, I've come to grow used to the hot summers and the warm winters; there is no such thing as cold in the southern side of California, much less in LA.

I'll admit it. I don't swing that way, but anyone can tell that he's a good looking guy, even if he calls himself 'Moose.' He's several inches taller than me and about sixty pounds heavier, with big shoulders and arms and a chest that could make most any guy feel incompetent. He's got light hair - which is something these girls in California seem to adore, although I'm not saying I've not had any luck with my darker features.

I look at him. He's talking about something his sister said, and I remember her; she was tall, like him, with the same pale features, but I haven't seen her in years. She could be as big as him as well at this point, but I'll always remember her as the girl, (a year younger than me,) who was my first kiss.

But Moose doesn't know that. He doesn't need to know, either; Alexis (his sister) and I promised we wouldn't tell anybody, Moose included.

As he smiles at me, I smile too - I didn't hear what he said, but it was supposed to be funny, as I can tell by the way his forehead crinkles when he laughs. Even though we're in separate countries, we're still close friends; we still IM with each other and talk about what's been going on. He's got a girlfriend up in Canada, and I tell him that I'm on a break with a girl, because I honestly didn't want him to know what I feel about Jade.

I didn't mean for things to go down the way they did with Jade. I was confused, and she was angry, and things just... happened. Honestly, when I told the people in that animal hospital that I loved her as a friend, it was only half the truth. Even now, when she glares at me in the hallway or doesn't answer my texts, it's all I can do not to tell her how much I miss her. Why don't I again? I'm guessing it's something to do with pride more than it is risking her hurling a pair of scissors into my skull.

But it's like I told Tori all those months ago; Jade's a dangerous game, and it's that thrill that keeps you coming back for more.

"What's up, Beck?"

I look back to Moose, and he's sitting hunched with his elbows on his knees, holding his bottle of blue soda. He's looking at me like I've just said all my thoughts aloud - accusingly, even - but I know I haven't said a thing in about ten minutes. I shake my head and take a swig of my drink before saying half-heartedly, "It's nothing."

Moose knows me. He's got his eyes on me, and I know he could very well be looking right through me.

And it's not nothing anyway; the fact that I see three girls crawling all over him doesn't bother me. It's the fact that one of those girls is Jade. Where's she been, anyway? She wasn't at the show with Tori and Cat, and she never did come see us afterward. I haven't seen her since she came here, (for the first time since the last night we were together.)

I shouldn't be thinking about that. She wasn't here for me. She was here for _him._

"You're mad about your girlfriend hitting on me?" he says, more of a suggestion than a question. But it's spot on, and I won't deny it.

"My _ex_-girlfriend," I say, sighing as I set the glass bottle on the table between us. "And I'm not mad; I shouldn't even be _thinking_ about it." I shake my head and look toward the ground. "She's not my girlfriend anymore. It shouldn't matter what she does."

"It's all good, man," he says. I look to him; he's taking it easily, his eyes still smiling, a familiar, lopsided grin on his face. "Even if she did like hockey, I wouldn't have done anything... her being your ex and all."

Wait - it wasn't Jade who'd said anything about hockey. That was Tori.

"No, that's not -" I stop myself there. He doesn't need to know which one was which; he's heading back home tomorrow morning anyway. Sighing, I just say, "Thanks, man."

"No problem."

We sit there for a few minutes. I'm getting tired; I don't want to think any more on things, but I do want to spend the rest of the time I've got with Moose catching up and just being friends. I know he didn't mean any harm; seriously, he'd told the three of them that he was only into Canadian girls... Though I couldn't help but notice that he blatantly left out the fact that he _did_ have a girl back home.

I try to shrug it off and actually listen when he starts talking this time.

"But you know the freaky girl?" he says, his face contorting into a smug grin.

'Freaky girl' - yeah, I've heard that a few times before.

"You mean _Jade_?" I say, smiling back, but I realize I sound a little too cutting with my words.

He ignores it and continues, "Yeah, her." He leans back in his chair and sets his empty bottle down before stretching his arms out behind him. "She pretty much _attacked _me last night."

My heart stops. My skin feels cold.

The look on his face says it wasn't with a pair of scissors, and I know Jade too well to think that anyway.

"Whoa," is all I say.

"Yeah, she really _is_ pretty freaky," he says with a chuckle that makes me want to punch his teeth out. "She pulled the car over and just got _all over_ me."

"What'd you. . . How'd you. . .?" Words are failing me, and I'm not trying to hide the surprise that I'm sure is covering my face. I'm just hoping that the anger that's making my stomach feel sick isn't visible as well.

"What would _you_ do?" He's laughing, his eyes looking somewhere else; not here, not at me. He's remembering her. "I tell you, man, American girls are pretty fuckin' _friendly_."

I look at him as he looks off into the night. I'm about to raise out of my chair and knock his goddamn head off, but he doesn't know that it was Jade I'd been with. He doesn't know that I was her first, and that I was the first person to tell her I loved her, and that she was my everything for so long - even now, even as I'm trying to just let her go and move on and _forget._

But I can't forget her. How could you? I see that Moose sure hasn't, by the way he looks as though he's about to devour something delicious.

"So did you -"

"Yeah, man. Fucked her good. She has the most amazing tits I've ever -"

"That's my - _friend,_ Moose," I say, trying to block out the rest of his words. All I can see now is his hands in places I hoped - _used to hope _- that only I would get to see, to touch. Her waist, her chest, her hips... I can see that perfect, beautiful blemish on the inside of her thigh that she always scolded me for staring at, and everything about her. . .

"Dude, you can't say you haven't _thought_ about it," he says, and immediately I stand up and rub my forehead.

"I'm tired, man," I say, shaking my head. "We better call it a night."

I hear him stand up and move toward me, and I look up to see him with his arms out beside him in a questioning way. I know what he's thinking, and I know what this looks like, but the fact that he was with her - he's a big guy, a lot bigger than me, with a body that I could never compete with. . .it's stirring up a sore feeling inside of me that I never wanted to feel again, not after _Tori_ got with Jade, (which is a long story that I don't want to talk about.)

"What's your deal?" he asks, sounding a little frustrated. "I thought you'd be _happy_ for me."

"What about Allison?" His girlfriend. "How do you think _she'd_ feel about all this?"

"She doesn't have to know." He gives a scoff, and his next words sting. "And what do _you_ care? Seems like you know how to hurt a girl a lot more openly."

Moose knows about the breakup, and about a few of the things I'd said to Jade, although I never really did tell him her name - not that he'd remember it, anyway. As he says, he remembers girls by their bodies and the back of their heads, which has always rubbed me the wrong way. I always ignored it, but now that he's been with _her,_ his player's attitude is enough to make me want to - want to what? I can't hurt him. I couldn't _hit_ him. He's been like a brother to me for so long, and even though he can be a hell of a douchebag, I can't just do that to him when he doesn't know what he's done.

Except that last statement. He knows damn well what he's done.

"Look, Moose," I say, shaking my head and looking at the top of the buildings around us. "Jade and I are really close friends. I just don't like hearing about. . . _any_ of that stuff."

"Alright, man," he says, looking a little confused. I've never objected to hearing his stories - but that was when I didn't have to listen, and when it wasn't about the girl I love - _used to love_. "I'm sorry. I won't say anything else."

"Thanks," I say, and he nods. We sit down again and start talking about his family back home.

x-x-x

It's half past one, and Moose finally went inside the house to sleep. He's staying in the guest bedroom, which is the room I used to sleep in before I moved into the trailer. I'm glad; my trailer is the place where I like to be by myself. It's the place where I can just be _me._

My lamp's on, and I'm sprawled out on the bed in just a pair of shorts. It's a little cool in here, I'm sure, but I don't feel it. I don't feel the chill of the air or the scratch of my old comforter or the heat of the lamp beside me. I can't focus on any of that while my mind's on _her._

I know she's up right now - with who, if anyone, I'm not sure. It's not just me and Moose she's been with; I know she was with Cat when _we_ were together, but I gave her my consent on that. It's just Cat; sweet, air-headed Cat. I knew Jade had held feelings for her for years, before I was even in the picture, but I knew (or I _thought_) that she loved me. . . and you learn from your mistakes over time.

And then, there was Tori after we broke up. It hurts, but I knew from the beginning that Jade swings both ways, and I was always okay with that. She has every right to go out with whoever she likes. She's not my property - she's not even all too much of a _friend_ at the moment. And I've moved in on Tori myself, but that was something else _entirely_.

Jade likes Tori, I'm sure, but for me, Tori is more like something that makes me feel good. A friend, yes, but there's something about her that makes me want to smile, even though inside, I know I feel like just giving up.

Jade was different. With her, I faced the things that made me feel like - like dropping dead. It was like she wanted me to face them and get over them, even though I don't think she'll ever get over her own problems. It's because of her that I moved out of the house and into the trailer, and it's because of her that I learned to treat girls right, and it's because of her that I'm left with more good memories running through my mind than the thought of fighting with her all the time toward the end.

Every single way I went wrong was a mistake that I would never make again. . . if I had the chance.

What I'm doing now is stupid. It's not a good idea, but I'm doing it anyway, because I don't know why. I grab my phone from the other side of the mattress, and like it's something completely sensible and natural, I'm texting her. I know she probably won't answer, but I don't care. I'll drive to her place if she doesn't.

_Can you come over? I want to talk._

I mash the 'send' button before I can put any thought into my actions.

None of this is even remotely intelligent.

I've just got to wait now. I don't remember where I heard the line, but someone said, "Waiting is always the hardest part." Whoever said that is right; I can deal with the fighting, and her anger, and even her striking me on occasion - or what _used_ to be occasional. But the waiting for her to come around is like riding out a long and relentless storm. It tires me out and wears down my anger, the way water washes away at the earth.

And then, only a few minutes later, my phone vibrates, and there's her name in the palm of my hand. I'm hesitant, but finally I open the message.

_On my way._

That was too easy to _not_ be suspicious. I have a feeling she knows that Moose told me, and I have an even stronger feeling that she's wanting to make sure _I know_ that she doesn't regret any of it at all.

But I don't care. I just want to see her. I just want it to be the two of us in here again. It may be my haven, but it's not the same without her here hiding from the outside's fire with me.

x-x-x

I see her headlights through the open slits of my blinds, and I know it's her by the sound of the engine.

I open the door to my trailer and step out. Her lights flicker before turning off completely, and I watch as she opens the door to her car, stepping out in the outfit she knows I love to see on her. She walks toward me with a blank expression, her purse slung over her shoulder, the strap accentuating places on her I'm trying not to think about.

It's that stupid green sweater and normal black skirt. She knows what it does for her, and she knows what it does to _me_. Even though her expression says nothing at all, I catch her eyes, and I can see it there that she plans to make me suffer tonight, no matter what she said two weeks ago about not being mad.

"Hey," I say.

She's looking down at my chest, and I realize that I only threw on a tanktop with my shorts. I don't know if she likes what she sees, but she's seen it all and more before. I'm not fresh meat like Tori or, apparently, Moose.

"What?" she asks, more of a demand than a question.

I know if I mess up now, she'll be gone. She'll be even less of my friend than she is now; than she was three weeks ago before the 'encounter' at the animal hospital. I used to be able to read her so easily, and while there are still things I can pick up about her naturally even now, there are others that I've lost to impractice and in growing so far apart from her.

"Come in," I say, and when her eyes, (bright and accusing,) meet mine, challenging me, I look away. If I try to meet her anger, as futile a task as it would be to match her downright _ferocity_, it'll only push her away.

I hold the door to my trailer open, and she steps up. Her scent is strong as she passes by me, and I can't help but savor it as I step in as well and shut the door behind me.

Jade sits on my bed, and it causes my stomach to wrench. Her purse is on the floor beside her, and her hands are running across the top of my ruffled comforter. She recognizes the feel; she always told me it was rough, (although she claimed it was in a good way,) and she's got her eyes half-lidded as she bites her lower lip. I know she's remembering, just like I am.

"So," I say hesitantly, and her eyes snap open in my direction. "What's up?"

She looks as though she could spit at me as I say this.

"You got me up at one in the morning to ask me _what's up_?" she asks, her voice cutting.

"You know what I mean," I say.

"Well, excuse me, but _no,_ I do not."

She wants me to say it. Her blue eyes are boring into mine. She's so incredibly fierce, and even more stubborn. But the way she looks at me causes me to frown, because it's the look she gave me so often not all that long ago when Tori came to Hollywood Arts. Mistrust; hurt; enveloped and subtle _dominance _over me.

"You and Moose," I say quietly, running a hand through my hair for a moment.

"Yeah, me and Moose. . .?"

"You slept together."

A wry grin comes over her lips, and with a look of absolute delight in her eyes, she says almost humorously, "Oh, we did a lot more than just _sleep._"

I close my eyes and turn toward the other side of my trailer. I didn't want to hear that. I didn't want to see the images that came to mind. He's big, he's muscular, he's good looking. Jade could have anyone in the world; anyone she could _ever_ want, I'm confident that she could have them, in one way or another. But she chose him, of all people; my oldest friend, the guy who's been around since before I came here to LA, and I can't say that for anyone other than him and my parents.

Jade takes my reaction as a signal to continue. "He was pretty great - for a Canadian, I mean." I'm not even looking at her, but I can hear her smile in her words. "He was pretty cute; he really made me feel _appreciated._" I can hear her voice sigh, and the sound causes me to both feel sick and my skin to shiver. "His hands aren't the only things that're big. . ."

_"Stop."_

The word comes out of my mouth so fast that I don't even realize I've said it until she goes completely quiet. I turn to face her, and she looks genuinely surprised. I walk toward her, telling myself not to get angry, not to push her too far - if I do, she's gone, and this time she won't come back.

"Just. . . please. I don't want to think about him and. . ."

She's quick to pick up on what I'm saying.

"You just can't stand the thought of it."

She's standing up, moving toward me now. _Jade._ Her name is the first thing I think of for some reason when she's only a foot away from me, her breath mingling with mine. Maybe it's because of her eyes; they're sharp and light, and they look and feel like ice as they inspect me. But more than that, when I see the slight curvature of her lips, slightly parted, breathing me in, and the way her hands _aren't _shaking against the thin of her waist, and the way her words sound - it all just whispers her name to me, soft and gentle but dangerously quiet, as if I'm the only one to hear it. _Jade._

"You _can't stand_ me being with someone else, can you?"

I'm quiet, and I'm trying my best to keep my expression and my heartbeat calm. The space between us is minimal, and I know she's tempting me to touch her, so she'll have a reason to throw a fit. To hit me. But I stay where I am, although I'm quietly enjoying the sensation of the closeness I've not felt with her in too long.

"He's been my friend forever," I say, calmly but sharply. "And you. . ."

"What about _me_?" Jade's voice is too innocent to be genuine.

"You know what I feel about you."

_Damn it._ Wrong choice of words.

She steps closer, and her wildly untamed black hair frames her face so perfectly that I'm tempted to reach out and run my hands through it. Her scent permeates my senses like some sort of ethereal drug, and I know _she_ knows what she's doing.

"_Say it,_" she murmurs in little more than a whisper. "Tell me you're jealous of him."

Now she's too close. Her lips are only inches from mine, and her breath smells like her favorite cup of iced coffee. Her right hand reaches up and places itself on my cheek, and slowly, (deliberately,) she says the words, "Tell me, baby."

It's difficult. She's there, her lips are so perfect, her scent is so familiar and sweet. I'm not going to deny it. I still have feelings for her, and she's still the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. I want her desperately. But the look in her eyes doesn't even remotely resemble that of the loving, _needing_ gaze they carried before we would. . .

When I fail to give her any sort of reaction, she frowns slightly, removing her hand and causing my skin to feel unbearably cold. She backs away from me, her eyes scrutinizing as she looks me over. Then she turns and picks her purse up off the floor, placing it over her shoulders.

"It's been nice, Beck." She says my name with a tinge of venom, and I can't help but flinch.

Jade's coming to move past me, and I do something I shouldn't. I grab her arm and push her to the wall, and she makes a grunt that sounds almost scared. My arms are on both sides of her, entrapping her here before me, and the only thought that runs in my mind is a single, silent word.

_Don't._

"Let me go," she says, her face looking more frightened than fierce.

"No," I say. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

I frown. "Sleep with him."

She gives me a look that tells me she's no where near giving in.

"I have needs too, you know. . ."

"_Why did you do it?_" I didn't mean for my voice to sound that harsh.

Jade truly looks frightened now, and she reaches her arms up in what little space there is between us and gives me a strong shove against my chest. I don't move, and she begins to push again, and again, until she reaches a hand up and strikes my face hard.

"I swear to _God_ I'll call the cops," she says, quietly yelling at me. "Now _let me go._"

"Tell me why you did it," I breathe, "and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Her eyes are fearful, but her lips tremble, and I can tell she's coming close to tears. I sigh, stepping back and taking her hand and pulling her to the bench beneath the window. She complies weakly, and I pat the seat beside me. Her eyes tell me she doesn't trust me, and softly, I say to her, "I promise."

Finally, she sits beside me, not looking at me - not even facing me. Her hand is still in mine, and she doesn't make a move to let go. With my free hand, I slide her purse off her opposite shoulder and set it on the ground before I let her think on what she's going to say.

Jade might not seem like it, but she can be incredibly careful. Normally, she's reckless, fearless - but we know each other too well, even if it's been so long, and she knows that what lies she tells me will mean nothing.

"I did it," she begins, pausing to swallow, "because you let me walk away, and you didn't come after me."

The words sink in, and they sting. I've known since the moment she drove away that I should have stopped her, and so often in my mind, I replay the whole scene so that I _do_ stop her, and I tell her we can fix things, and I tell her that it's all going to be okay. I think about doing the things I failed to do in the first place.

"I loved you so, _so _much," she says, and I feel my chest hurt. She raises her hands to her eyes to hide her face, her voice breaking. "You were supposed to love me, too."

Something inside me feels as though it's torn in half, and I can't help my next movement.

My arm drapes over her and pulls her around so that her head, still hidden in her hands, is pressed against my chest. She freezes against me, and I know my movements are too bold, too dangerous. I shouldn't be doing this.

I shouldn't be doing _any_ of this.

"I was wrong," I say in a voice that sounds too deceivingly calm to be my own. "I should have. I should have gone after you."

Jade is still frozen against me, and I can't hear her breathing aside from the choking sounds as she holds back tears. I know this feeling too well; holding her, when all she wants to do is hit me, swear at me, push me away. But I'm afraid that if I let go of her now, she's not going to come back - no, I'm afraid that she's going to get as far away from me as she possibly can. And honestly, I can't let that happen.

"I loved you," I say, and I know I'm treading on dangerous ground. "More than you'll ever understand."

Her hands are rough against my shirt, and she's grabbing onto me and pushing me off at the same time, but I keep where I am.

"I thought," I begin, thinking on my words for a moment, (being more cautious than I should be - right?) "I thought that if we just got some _space_. . . Things would just. . ."

"Things would just _what?_" she demands, though the words are weakened by the smallness in her voice.

"I thought things would get better." I can't help but relish the scent of her as she simply stays here in my arms. "I thought if we got some time to _think_, the fighting, and the yelling, and - I thought it would have time to just _stop._"

I feel heat rising in her. When she grows rigid, I know that she's getting angry; the feel of her fists clenching into my shirt, and her breath only barely tickling my chest from the sparratic exhalations and beat of her heart. I know I've awoken that animal part of her that I always found so dangerously beautiful, like fire dancing on a match.

And again, she's trying to push me away; I allow her to move only enough so that she can look me in the eye, and if she must, she can slap me again. If it gets this rage out of her system, I'm willing to take a hit or two. If it takes her beating me black and blue to get her to settle down and come back to me, I'll take whatever she dishes out.

Her jaw is set firm, her lips frowning and brows pressed, and her hair is wildly strewn about her face.

And in some sort of awful, melancholy way, she looks absolutely, beautifully _broken._

"You needed me," I say without realizing, but the look on her face now (eyes wider, threatening tears) tells me that I've said my biggest regret aloud. So I go with it. "You needed me. You just wanted to get through something, and I. . ."

She looks to me expectantly, and although her lips don't move, she whispers this to me; "_Say it._"

"I wasn't there." I shake my head, letting out a hard breath that I hadn't known I was holding. "I let you down."

"_You ruined everything_," she snaps, her eyes boring into mine accusingly. "You ruined every. . . Every hopeless, stupid thought that I had about _us._" She jerks her shoulders away from me, and I suppress a swear. "You don't even know the _half_ of what you did to me, and don't you fucking _dare_ think that a hug and a halfassed 'I'm sorry' are going to fix _any_ of this mess."

Jade stands, and I try to follow, but she shoves me back against the wall and makes a sound close to a snarl, and the look in her eyes shows no sign of granting me any forgiveness anytime soon.

"Call me when you figure things out," she says, snatching her purse from beside me and stalking almost too quietly to the door.

Then she turns to me, her eyes bright and burning as cigarettes, and with a scowl, she shakes her head at me.

"It's pathetic that it took me fucking your best friend for you to realize what an _idiot _you are."

And then she's gone.

And I'm left alone here with a painful hollowness in my chest, silently wallowing in the feel of suffocating in the scent of what's left of her presence.


	2. This Lonely View

**Disclaimer;**

I obviously don't own Victorious.

**Warnings;**

This is amateur work, seeing as there are several new things for me writing. Also, there's a possibility of sexual content. Just read at your own discretion.

**Author's Note;**

A lot off stuff has been going on in my life, if I'm to be honest, and I've actually got several other personal writings and fanfictions that come before this story on the priority list.

But I wrote this chapter during my free time over the course of a few weeks, and although it has a lot more of Beck's perspective than anything else, it says what I wanted it to say, and that's what I feel matters.

Anyway, here's part two.

**Wet Sand**

_Part Two - This Lonely View_

The night is unbearably long.

The air's warm and balmy, and my trailer should be making me sweat right now; but still, I wrap myself in my comforter and try to forget about everything that just happened.

I take it back; I don't want to forget about it. I want to remember every word she said to me, go over them in my mind, find what she wants me to do, and _do it._ I'm wrapped around her finger again; I always was, now that I think about it. Even when she was with someone else - even when she only _claimed_ to be with someone else - I knew that there was nothing more in the world that I wanted than to be hers, and for her to be mine, and for everything to just be _okay_ again.

No, more than "okay" - I want it to be like it was before things went so bad, before the fighting and the anger and the hurt started. I want things to be happy, (or as happy as two people like Jade and me can possibly be, anyway,) and I want us to know each other like we did before; body and mind.

Even though it's so loosely, even now we're connected to one another. I honestly feel that some things will never change. Jade will always know the side of me that no one else knows - the side of me that I hope no one else knows, because that part of me is reserved only for _her._ And of her, I know things that I doubt she would ever tell anyone but the person she chooses to love most; and right now, as I shift uncomfortably beneath the sheets, I know that my greatest wish is to be that person again.

Jade is a doubtful, insecure person behind her mask of self-confidence and even cruelty at times. I know her like nobody else knows her. She trusted me to keep her steady, and I failed her. I ruined what we had worked on for over three years to build up - just completely shattered it all into small, irreparable, _irreplaceable _pieces.

Deep thinking for a guy who couldn't tell that all he needed to do was comfort his girlfriend.

I think of those times when our relationship had come close to being over - over like they are now - but things never quite divided; those little shards of our emotions were all put back together. Maybe not perfectly, but they fit, and maybe they even improved. I can't help but wonder if this could be anything like this.

But by the look of kindling hatred I saw brewing in her icy eyes only a few hours ago, I can tell things are going to be much more complicated.

x-x-x

Earlier, at some point around half past five, sleep came.

I just woke up to the sound of my alarm clock. It's loud and annoying, and it's not helping my headache any, so I smash the thing harshly with my palm as I roll over onto my back and look up at the ceiling of my trailer.

It's ten till eight. Moose's flight back home is at a quarter past nine. I should be getting up and getting ready - I should have done that two hours ago, spending as much of the last of the time I'll have with him for who knows how long, but I'm not going to lie to myself.

Moose is no longer the friend he used to be.

Finally, after a few minutes, I roll out of bed and sit on the edge. I suddenly realize that my skin is slick with sweat, and when I turn my head to look where I was laying, I realize that the sheet is slightly dampened there as well. It's probably seventy-five degrees in here, and I laid wrapped in that thick, scratchy comforter for hours, all hoping to catch a hint of her scent.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair, standing as I begin to gather my outfit for the day from my small chest of drawers. I'm going to need a shower, I know - but that means more time with my parents, and more time with Moose, and more time remembering how they both wrongly treated Jade.

Well, Moose hadn't done anything wrong, honestly - in an indirect and unintentional way he had, but Jade had started what happened the other night, and I really can't hold that against him.

But somehow, I still do.

x-x-x

Five minutes until they'll call for the passengers to start boarding the plane, and I've not hardly said anything of significance to my old friend. He's standing there, a few feet off, holding his luggage and eying some people as they walk by, but he can sense the tenseness in me like I can sense the uneasiness in him; something rare for him, as he's normally so confident in everything about himself. I can't help but grind my teeth together at that.

I need to say something - _anything_ - that will fix this. I don't need to lose the last friend I have from home, especially when he flew all the way down here to LA to see me. I should tell him that I'll come visit soon, and that we'll still talk, and that I'm going to miss him.

But as the call goes out to the passengers over the speaker system, all I say to him is, "Say hey to your sister for me."

He doesn't have to know how underhanded and low that request really was.

"I will, man," he says, and we give each other one of those hugs that are awkward even if you really are still friends. Maybe to him, we still are. Maybe he has no idea how much I'm fuming at him, even though it's not his fault. He's always been this way, so why should this time be different?

_Because this time, it was Jade._

"Thanks for coming to see me," tell him quickly, and he replies with a "thanks for letting me stay."

And just like that, he's walking through the open doors to the terminal. The last thing I see of him before he disappears into the crowd is a smile and a wave, and I return the gesture halfheartedly as I turn and walk away, honestly not caring if I ever see him again.

x-x-x

It's a Sunday, just before noon. Moose just left, and here I am, sitting by myself with an empty chair still sitting, now lonely, on the far side of a table.

I should text Andre. After all of this, I know it's time to let my past friends go - Moose isn't a part of my life anymore. He lives a thousand miles away, and I never did agree with everything he did - or claimed to do - so why keep him in my thoughts any longer?

And Andre's been like a brother to me since I came to Hollywood Arts. I'd trust him with my life, if it ever came down to it.

But I smell rain on the air, and I plan to take some time to think things over; figure things out.

Andre knows. He knows that I still have feelings for Jade - but he doesn't realize to what extent. Andre and I are close, but there are some things I keep to myself. I'm not an open book like he is, and I never claimed to be, and we're both okay with that.

The private things about me are meant for me and the one I love.

And I'm pretty sure the one I love is currently wishing me dead.

There's a low rumble of thunder from somewhere far off, and I know the rain will be here soon. I should get the books I have on the table and move them inside, along with my cooler full of soda, but I can't bring myself to do so; the sound of the oncoming storm only excites me, as it always has.

A lot of people will never know just how amazed I am by things like that; a thunderstorm, a sunset, the ocean breeze. Nature's a beautiful thing, and it's something that I don't get to see here in LA all too much. But nobody really knows about me, and they don't really care - everyone talks so much that they never really bother to listen. But if they were to ask about my interests, I'd tell them what they probably don't really care to know. I'd tell them how I like to just lay out some nights and look up at the sky and watch the stars and imagine what else is out there, and what they're doing, and what they're thinking - and I can't help but think that maybe there's someone looking skyward from somewhere else and wondering the same thing of me.

I told her about my thoughts; my interests aside from acting and music and art.

Jade never told me that they were stupid, or that they were a waste of time, or that I was "too sensitive." In fact, we spent more nights just enjoying those sorts of things together than we did much else, because Jade is the kind of person who finds absolute wonder in the abstract and spatial things more than the more physical; like me. And we liked that about each other.

To me, there was never a wasted night when I was with Jade, but not all of them were spent in my bed, either. A lot of people - like Moose - just don't get it. A lot of things mean more than sex between two people who love each other. It's great, but it's not everything. Honestly, it seems like toward the end, we had more of it than any other time, and now I know why; we were grasping for what little bits of hope and affection we could, when the rest of "us" was simply falling to pieces.

We were losing it all for reasons I'm still trying to figure out as I sit here, waiting to get a taste of rain. My mind is moving at a thousand miles an hour, and I know I can't keep up, so I settle for simply taking the images of our better days together and holding onto them until the vision fades in my mind's eye.

But I know what we lost, at least.

We lost what was probably most important to me - what I would put down my dreams of becoming an actor for; what I'd give up most anything for. No, what I'd give up _everything_ for, if I'd been given another chance.

It was that understanding between us. Our individual beliefs; interests; what we felt for each other, and for the people around us - for the world, even. It was the mystery lingering between us of knowing some but not all, but knowing someday, it would all be revealed. It was what we were both interested in together, because of each other - the way our minds challenged one another brought up both positive and negative things, but I can never complain about the losses when I gained so much more to replace them all. Between Jade and me, it was an understanding of having no understanding - it was craving to be sure about something greater than us all, but not having faith in anything but yourself and the one you love. It was a fascination with the things we know so little about, and the things we have no control over, and the things that are so much bigger than all of us - those are the things that enamored us both and subsequently drew us together in the first place, before I knew little more than her name.

We're both so trapped in our own thoughts - we always have been. We dwell on the past so much that we forget about the present and, sometimes, even the future. And when we recognized that we were two of a kind, we became something of an outlet for each other.

Jade was what I needed. She taught me how to treat others well when I can barely respect myself. And for her. . . She told me I was the first person to say "I love you" to her and actually mean it.

And having met her parents shortly afterward, I'd believe it.

My eyes face the sky now, as if trying to stay above drowning in this torrential flood of thoughts and regrets. These thoughts swimming through my head, accompanying the sounds of the rain beginning to patter on the pavement around me, join into a silent, easy chorus, speaking volumes to me as though the noises were voices, all speaking in unison. It's that essence on the air again; that thing about her that brings me back to where I was this morning when she stalked toward me like some sort of predatory animal with pale eyes alight as she comes in for her kill. Beautiful; dangerous; a thousand other words, all describing her so perfectly that I swear I can smell her scent in humid atmosphere.

The sounds and these thoughts and these _emotions_ talk to me, and the only thing they have to say is all I ever really hear these days.

_Jade._

x-x-x

At some point, I'd decided to gather my things and come inside. My hair and clothes were soaked, so I changed into some shorts and dried my hair as best I could with a dry shirt, since honestly, I'm not wanting to be anywhere _near _my parents right now.

They're always telling me how to feel, or at least how to act, especially when they think it's about _her._ They were so quick to judge her, and it was so effortless for them to give her such grief for her appearance, (her tattoos, her piercings, the blond in her brown hair,) that it was sickening, and as soon as Jade left the first night I brought her to meet them for dinner. . . You could say I told them they were no longer "parents" to me.

And here I am, in my trailer, years later. As soon as it's legal, I'm moving myself somewhere far away from them - or that was our plan, when Jade and I were together.

A lot of teenagers say this, but my parents really just _don't get it_. They met later in life; they met at an age considered "old enough to know what love is," and when love happens in any other way, they discount it. They're right; maybe it's not their kind of love. I'm young. I'm eighteen, and Jade is the only girl I've ever come to "think I love," (as they'd say) - but at the same time, Jade is the only person I've ever come across that fit me so perfectly, and she's the only girl who could make me feel so in control of all the negative things that are happening in my life, and yet, at the same time, she's the only girl who can make me feel as though I'm completely powerless, as though I'm at the tips of her fingers; as though I am completely and undeniably _hers._

I'm thinking too deep again, I know. The harder I think, the more it hurts.

So I settle for looking out the window and watching the rain fall heavily all across the streets, a low-lying cloud of mist enveloping what I could normally see of the cityscape, inhibiting my view of anything even only a few yards out from my trailer.

It's a beautiful thing - rain in LA. It's normally a spontaneous, fleeting thing, so as I sit here, my breath fogging up the glass, I try to let my mind slip into some place outside of myself as the sound of rainfall lulls me into comfortable, quiet peace.

And in that moment, I don't quite realize it, but I fall asleep.

x-x-x

The dreams come and go so easily that I don't realize that it's five-thirty in the afternoon by the time I wake up.

Some sort of realization just made its way into my head.

I move to my bed and pick up my laptop from where it sits between the bed and the wall, and as soon as I'm logged on, I begin to type out a message.

_I'm sorry about last night, but I think I understand now._

That's only half-true. I only understand that what I did to her damn near _destroyed_ her, but I'm still not sure what it was that caused all of our relationship to go to hell in the first place, or what it meant when she said - when _I_ said - that she needed me, and I wasn't there.

But she doesn't need to know the details just yet, because if she knows there's a trace of doubt in my mind, she's not going to take anything I say seriously.

And the only way I can lie to Jade is when we're not standing right before each other.

_I really want to talk things over. We can meet wherever you want._

I press the 'send' button before I can think things over any further. Her icon on theSlap tells me that she's online, so it shouldn't be long.

I can't help but let my mind slip to where she is, to what she's doing right now. Part of me tells me that she and Tori are doing something - something that I honestly don't want to think about - but the other half tells me that she's spent her day brooding over our conversation last night. While Jade isn't quite _predictable_, there are habits about her that I've come to know, and one of them is overthinking on things to the point that she becomes depressed.

Another one of the reasons we did so well together for so long; not only were we each other's outlets, but we were each other's distractions. What we couldn't face alone, and what we couldn't handle even together, we avoided with one another.

And now I can't help but focus on the hollowness in my chest that formed from the idea of making her depressed over something that never should have happened. Some might say it was her fault; she . . . _did things_ with my best friend - my _old _best friend - and didn't hesitate to flaunt her actions in front of me. I know she did it to get a rise out of me, and hell, maybe she did it to get a rise out of Cat or Tori - I don't know. I'm not as close to her as I once was.

But I still can't say that my actions are her fault. She slept with him - I _get_ that, and I wish I could stop thinking about it - but I was still the one to scold her.

I had scolded her, hadn't I? What she did with Moose wasn't a crime; she's not my girlfriend, and she has every right to be with whoever she wants to be with. But I acted like it was wrong for her to do what she did; like what she'd done was dangerous.

But now, when I think further on this reasoning, I remember - it _was_ dangerous.

Moose doesn't give a fuck what happens to the girls he's with. With his size, he could have overpowered her; he could have hurt her without so much as thinking about it. And with that uncaring attitude of his, he could have not done anything to -

I need to stop myself there, because I don't want to _think_ about all the things that could have happened between them, even though it's killing me not knowing if he actually _did_ hurt her. Jade has such a strong sense of pride that she'd never admit it; she'd never say that something she started turned into something that would end up screwing her over.

And if that's not dangerous, I don't know what is.

She still hasn't replied, and I'm beginning to think she's ignoring me. No, I'm not thinking she is; I know she is, because she's commented on a few pictures here and there. I'm about to type her another message, just to make sure she understands I'm serious, but at the top of the home page, I'm alerted that one of my friends has just posted a new status.

_Mom's out of town. Guess I'm home alone again._

I close my laptop and set it back in its space before I start getting dressed.

x-x-x

"Are you _stupid?_"

Her voice is almost as stinging as the look she's giving me, but I know that she's only putting up this act as a test. A test to see if I was paying attention; to see if I was as observant as she'd hoped, or if I was only here on nothing more than a whim.

I'm only here on little more than a hunch, but I'm hoping that makes my reasoning more credible.

"Can I come in, Jade?" I ask gently, my voice low. No one else is in her home, but as quickly as things seem to escalate between the two of us, it's best to keep my voice down to keep from getting the attention of everyone in the neighborhood.

"Why?" she hisses through clenched teeth. "Do just _have_ to know who might be in my bed or something?"

"_Jade,_" I murmur even more softly, as her voice was rising toward the end of her sentence. "I just want to talk."

She gives me a look of defiance that tells me that she's not going to make things easy, and I pinch the bridge of my nose and stifle a sigh.

"What about _me?_" she says - and thank God she says it as quietly as she does, because I'm pretty sure that was her neighbor who just shut their car door. With a more demanding tone, she continues, "What if I _don't_ want to talk?"

My first instinct is to do what we always did; be honest. I want to tell her she's being immature and that she should grow up, and I want to tell her to just trust me, just this once, just _this one time_; but I know that whatever I say of my honest thoughts are going to be words that speak against her.

So I say, "If you don't want to, fine; I'll leave."

These words are tricky. On one hand, she can take them as I meant for them to be; a quiet, subtle ultimatum, just as she gave me, and just as the one from which I failed to give her the reaction she needed. On the other hand, she'll take it as me being flaky, unreliable, only half-way on things; and she'll take this as me failing to be the strong and steady and unwavering force that keeps her afloat.

I'm honestly just praying at this point that she sees that my intentions are genuine. It seems like all I have left is hopeless sincerity anyway.

"Alright," she says, barely audibly. "Alright. You can come in, but if I tell you to leave -"

"Then I'll be gone," I say quietly, not wanting to hear the rest of her sentence, because I know it will only end with a threat that will upset me.

She moves aside, and I walk inside and set my keys on the side table, right where I used to, and she closes the door behind me.

I haven't been in her house in months, but it's exactly the same as the last time I was here. Her mother is controlling on a level that I still cannot understand, even after having known her for so long; every picture frame is level, every couch cushion is in its correct spot, every inch of the wood floor is so spotless that I wouldn't doubt it'd be safe enough to perform surgery on.

Jade gives me a look, and I realize I've been staring at the couch for too long.

We have more memories of that couch than I care to count at the moment, but none of them are bad.

"Why are you here?" Her voice sounds impatient.

"You said you were home alone."

"Not to _you_," she says. "I didn't say that so you'd come running over here -"

"Yes, you did," I say, and I know I'm being too bold.

A scoff escapes her that sounds like a half-snarl as well.

"So. . . _What?_"

She's asking me what I want to talk about.

What was it I wanted to say again?

If I could, I'd tell her everything; every thought going through my mind, every feeling that courses through me when I think about her, every regret that's been strangling me since the last night we were together. And someday, if things work out like I want them to, I can tell her everything, and I'll leave nothing out; but now, I have to repair what was broken.

And before that still, I have to find out exactly _what_ was broken.

"I know I made mistakes," I say, and she gives an indignant snort. "I know I should have been there when you needed me. I should have tried to work things out, and I should have -"

"We both know what you _didn't do_, Beck," she says, and although the words themselves should be cutting, she says them in a way that makes my heart feel more sadness than hurt. "But what do we _need_ to talk about?"

So she knows. She knows what I need to know, but she's going to make me draw them out of her. This is the way Jade works; it's as though she wants to make sure you genuinely want to pursue something, and to make sure of this, she plays games with you. It tires most people out, but there are a few of us who feel as though it's one of those things about her that just makes her so incredible - myself, Tori, and Cat, (who honestly doesn't understand it all completely; but I guess none of us really do.)

"What was happening, Jade?" I sigh, running a hand through my hair; one of those things I do when trying not to look as nervous as I really am. "What changed? Why did we just. . . Fall apart?"

My eyes meet hers, and they look to me as though I've just slapped her across the face.

Her next words are said so careful that they come out monotonously: "How should I know?"

I move toward her, and she shifts, crossing her arms under her chest, (accentuating her curves - _focus._) Her eyes are still set on mine as if they're stuck there; watching me, measuring me up. I know _she_ knows that I'm about to say something that's going to upset her, because honestly, the sound in my head of the words about to escape my lips makes me almost as uncomfortable as they'll make her angry.

"I think," I begin cautiously, "that we were keeping something from each other."

There's a silence, and for a moment, all we can do is look to each other.

"Do you think I was _cheating_ on you?" she asks incredulously, the words sounding as inconceivable as they really are.

"No."

"Then what?"

"I don't know," I say slowly. "That's why I need to talk to you."

I look to her; down to her trembling lower lip, over to the side of her jaw, and over to her eyes that are look as though they're threatening tears, (and the thought of seeing her crying again causes my heart to hurt more than it has in a long time, as unbelievable as that seems after these past few months.)

There is a silence between us, and I know now that all I really want to do is move past this mess so that I can have a reason to hold her and tell her I love her - that I _loved_ her, and that I want to again, because I'm not sure if this awful sensation I'm feeling in my chest right now can classify as "love."

Then, as though she'd finally broken down into telling me, Jade says quietly, "A lot happened during spring break."

Spring break - my family had forced me to go on vacation with them, and with how much my parents detested Jade, they hadn't let her come with us. More than likely, she'd spent her time home alone, as Tori and Cat both had plans, and she never was all too close to Andre.

When my eyes refocus on her, I see that she's already wiping at a tear rolling down her cheek, and I immediately place my hand on her shoulder without putting any thought into it.

"Come sit down," I say, and I lead her over to her couch. The tension in her back and shoulders tells me that she's holding back a sob, so after I sit her down, I offer to get her something to drink.

She nods, and I make my way to the kitchen.

And I can't help but hate myself for having made her this upset two times in less than twenty-four hours.


End file.
